


Doom Days

by seventeensteps



Category: Altered Carbon (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23198779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeensteps/pseuds/seventeensteps
Summary: The first time Takeshi meets him after being spun back up by Poe and Dig 301 – who now goes by 'Annabel' – they almost kill each other again.
Relationships: Takeshi Kovacs/Takeshi Kovacs
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Doom Days

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Altered Carbon and all I can think of is Takeshi with the other Takeshi and I just... *unintelligible noises* well no one else seems to have written it and I need this itch scratched so bad so yeah, here we are. I wrote this for myself and that other person on the Internet. You there, thanks for reading.

The first time Takeshi meets him after being spun back up by Poe and Dig 301 – who now goes by 'Annabel' – they almost kill each other again. The difference this time is that it's done merely on principle.

The other Takeshi barges in just as he's ripping the stack of his target out with a pair of pliers he found lying around the workshop. It's messy and admittedly a bit over the top even for him, but that prick deserves it. Takeshi's been tracking him down through the trail of bodies left in deserted alleys, naked and mutilated; it's more than obvious what happened to them. Besides, the man shouldn't have taunted him like that. Even now he's tempted to just crush the bastard and be done with it, thirty thousand credits or not.

Still, his target's luck might not have run out just yet, because, for him, being face to face with one's own self again proves to be rather distracting. Takeshi barely has two seconds to notice the slight nod from himself, before the man and two other Protectorate soldiers start pointing their rifles at him. Takeshi throws himself at the other him, making it hard for the two soldiers to take a good shot. Other Takeshi barks out a command while dodging his punch and feigns a slip, one leg hooking behind his ankle, their combined momentum sends them crashing to the floor. Takeshi rolls them away behind the shelves. To other soldiers' eyes, they are scuffling on the floor for the rifle, but once they're out of sight, his other self shoves the gun at him. He checks to make sure that the ammo is set to 'stun' and aims, quickly squeezing out two shots. The loud thud and distorted groans that follow ensure his escape route.

Takeshi turns back toward the man whom he used to look like. He stares back, nodding again, and lets Takeshi pulls the trigger.

He runs out of the workshop before more Protectorate soldiers show up; his mind keeps wondering about how pissed he's going to be if he has to be the one that gets shot.

* * *

Takeshi is well on his way to being drunk in a seedy bar in New Hokkaido when he sees the door open and a familiar guy walks in. He doesn't know how _he_ knows – the man has to be keeping tabs on him or something – but when their eyes meet, Takeshi sees the recognition there in the dim lighting. The man joins him at the bar.

"How was being shot?" He says by way of greeting.

"Shitty." The man signals for the barmaid and orders two glasses of whiskey. "Try being shot at close range."

"No, thank you," he says. "I had to change my sleeve because of that."

"Next time be more clever about it." He sips the whiskey, looking contemplative. His profile looks ridiculous, objectively speaking.

"I'm you, jackass." 

"Yes," he pauses, "and no."

Takeshi knows exactly what his other self is thinking. "Hmm," he downs his whiskey, feeling loose and slightly giddy. "'s weird."

"No shit," he says, and then, "what happened?"

Frustration suddenly flares up inside him. "You know what happened," he snaps.

His other self sips again. "Guess I do."

Takeshi snatches the glass from the man's hand, and downs it. His younger self frowns. The laugh that comes out of Takeshi is bitter, but he can't help it. "We're so bad at this."

The corner of other Takeshi's mouth lifts a little. "We haven't had much experience, have we?"

He thinks, and says, "I have some, actually."

The man raises an eyebrow.

Takeshi learns more about his past that night.

* * *

It becomes, not a _routine_ , exactly, but something close.

He pops into a dive bar on whichever planet he's on, and Takeshi will track him down and join him.

They get along better after the first couple of times, and on the fifth, when he's back on Harlan's World once more, he invites his other self back to the Nevermore. To visit Poe, is his excuse.

Poe is overjoyed for another guest to spoil, and Annabel, with a look too human to describe, only nods and greets the new Takeshi politely.

Takeshi, currently residing in a 30-something East Asian female sleeve, blames it on both of their mutual loneliness for the sex that follows.

After having been alive for more than 300 years or so, it's safe to say this is not his first time with a man, being in a female body or not. However, having sex with himself? That's certainly a first.

He tries not to think too much about how the other Takeshi touches all his sensitive spots, or how his delicate fingers cling too tightly to the man's muscular back. Or how he bites Takeshi's shoulder when he comes, slick and dripping inside, because that's what he does when he truly loses himself in a good fuck, and they both know he doesn't mind being bitten. Far from it, in fact.

Takeshi dozes off after that first round, and then wakes up to the sound of his younger self's quiet but definitely discernible grunts. Takeshi's copy is facing the other side, his arm moving in a familiar movement. Takeshi pulls him close, pushes him down, and climbs gracelessly on top of him.

The man's moan resonates in the quiet room, and Takeshi can't help but feel slightly smug about himself. The grip on his thighs tightens, and he twists himself down deeper, feeling a bit winded, but satisfied.

They don't talk much that night; both of them know it isn't needed.

If, while riding him, Takeshi leans down and captures his mouth in a soft kiss, it's no one else's business but theirs.

* * *

Takeshi keeps that sleeve for more than a year (and that is considered a long time with his standard and his line of work), but the pleasant surprise on the other Takeshi's face when they meet again after is kinda worth it.

* * *

Even though they used to be the same person, the other Takeshi’s eyes throw him off a bit at first.

It’s the stark contrast between the familiarity of the appearance and the stranger living inside that makes Takeshi’s skin crawl. One time, he’s so far into his head thinking about it that he only realizes he’s been staring when his younger self waves a hand in front of him, asking silently with his raised eyebrow, ‘ _Where did you go?_ ’

He doesn’t know how to say that without offending the man somewhat so he doesn’t, and opts to just shake his head and resume cleaning his guns instead. Kovacs, currently sitting across from him and drinking the whiskey from Takeshi’s stash, doesn’t exactly _pout_ , but it’s a close thing. The man recently cut his hair short, and he knows it’s vain to say this, but it looks nice on him, fresh and different. Takeshi carefully sets the rifle down, and flicks the other’s forehead with his oily fingers.

“Fuck you,” the man says conversationally.

Takeshi grins and says, “Was counting on it, actually.”

He wakes up the next morning with a heavy, snoring man on top of him, and feeling pleasantly sore in all the right places.

* * *

Takeshi has gotten used to calling his other self 'Kovacs' in his head. He doesn't tell Kovacs this, but one time when his other self suddenly becomes mind-numbingly tight around him, Takeshi unintentionally calls him by the name. The pause from the man on top of him is almost imperceptible to the others' eyes, but Takeshi definitely notices the slight shift of the rhythm.

Kovacs doesn't comment on it and neither does Takeshi. 

He only lets Takeshi flip him down and suck more bruises into the skin on his neck, simultaneously taking and being taken.

Takeshi is grateful for the comfortable and now familiar silence that follows.

* * *

Their relationship – if one can ever call it that – is not purely physical, but it's not really what people may call 'romantic' either. It'll be super weird if it ever comes to that.

They take comfort in each other’s presence. Either of them knows, not all, but most of what the other has been through. There are nights when Takeshi wakes up screaming from the phantom pain of injuries he had three sleeves ago, and there are moments in which Kovacs is lost in the stream of memories that haven’t happened and will never do. If they’re not already there with one another, the first thing they do after regaining control once more is to seek each other out. The steady in-and-out of the other’s breath seems to make the dreadful task of navigating their own minds easier somewhat.

If asked, Takeshi is willing to admit that this – what they have – is some sort of an amicable friendship. However, if one ( _read: Poe_ ) tries to slot them into the 'friends with benefits' category, he will argue because, at least in his head, it sounds rather… _lacking_.

In the end, Takeshi discards the thought from his head, and decides that the name of what they have isn’t that important. After all, the man whose eyes he now recognizes is still here, and that, for now at least, is all that matters.

  
  



End file.
